


Avoidance

by iworshipyou_oliver



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Divorce, Epistolary, First Time Blow Jobs, Flirting, Happy Ending, Heavy Drinking, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, but mostly due to all that pining I mentioned, seriously so much pining they are idiots truly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 19:48:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19069465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iworshipyou_oliver/pseuds/iworshipyou_oliver
Summary: There are rumors in Hollywood that Armie's getting a divorce, and Timmy can't believe he's apparently the last person to hear about it. He'd have thought that his best friend wouldtellhim something like that, but then, Armie's been pretty hard to get hold of lately. It's not like they haven't been in touch at all, but Armie always seems to be too busy to talk on the phone and it's hard to meet in person when you both have busy careers which take you all over the world. Even so, Timmy's starting to get the feeling that Armie might be avoiding him, and that doesn't feel great, when all he wants to do is hug him and check in on how he's doing – and maybe find out if the rumours are true...





	Avoidance

**Author's Note:**

> I'm British so this will probably read strangely, given the characters are American. Sorry about that!
> 
> This is, very clearly, fiction.

Sweet Tea: **how's your week bruhhh?**

Armand: **All good thanks! Yours?**

Sweet Tea: **fine. Still filming but got some breaks. kind of need it tbh, been busy. got time for a call?**

Armand: **Sorry Tim, rehearsals are pretty full on, and got social stuff with the cast in the evenings. I'll let you know if I get a break x**

Timmy frowns at his phone, then drops it on the bed.  _ I mean, okay, so you have rehearsals and cast dinners. There still must be two minutes to FaceTime somewhere in your day. It's not like we haven't caught up with one another at inconvenient moments before.  _

He picks up his phone and unlocks it, just so he can frown at the 'x' too. It's unlike Armie to put an 'x' at the end of his texts. No matter the sentiment expressed, he usually just wouldn't; sometimes he might use a kiss-emoji if he was being a bit of an asshole, as a sort of valedictory flourish. This 'x' stinks of a fob-off, something to keep Timmy away.

He locks his phone again, and blinks. 

_ Maybe he's finally sick of me. It's been three years. I kind of wondered when it would happen.  _

*

It takes a few days, but he comes out of shooting happy and confident. 

_ He's not sick of me. Just overwhelmed with rehearsals and a bunch of new people, probably. I've gone quiet on him in the past too.  _

Sweet Tea:  **you in France yet dude? if so…we're on the same time zone for once!**

Armand:  **Yep...a rare occurrence**

Sweet Tea:  **lmk if you have time for that call**

Armand:  **Will do x**

Timmy blinks at his phone, then locks it, his good mood punctured and deflating rapidly.

_ Fuck. He is sick of me.  _

*

"Tim, don't expect me to, like, talk to you for long, I'm  _ literally  _ just ringing you up to use you for gossip, alright?" 

Timmy snorts a laugh, looking fondly at Saoirse on his screen. "What the fuck gossip would  _ I _ have that you don't?"

"Well it's about Armie, so obviously you're  _ the _ source."

Timmy huffs sadly. "Hardly. I don't think he's talking to me."

Saoirse gives him a look as if he's lying; then leans closer, apparently seeing Timmy's genuinely dejected expression. "What?" she asks, looking startled.

Timmy shrugs miserably. "I don't know. I mean, he replies to my texts but not with anything particularly...you know just like, empty responses, if you know what I mean? And he's never available to FaceTime, or even just talk on the phone." He drops his gaze, fiddling restlessly with his bootlace. "I don't know."

"Oh." Saoirse sounds disconcerted, her breezy demeanour gone. "That's fucking weird, but maybe… I – was talking to Emma the other day, and apparently  _ she  _ was chatting to Elizabeth at this awards thing –"

"Elizabeth?" asks Timmy, looking up to her. "Armie's –"

Saoirse waves a hand, a blur in front of the camera. "No, no, not Armie's wife Elizabeth, the other one. Her friend, you know, tall, willowy –"

"Debicki." Timmy supplies, automatically. 

"Yep, that's the bastard, thanks. Although, with friends like these – apparently she just outright  _ told _ Emma they're divorcing."

Timmy's stomach lurches, and his mouth goes dry. "What? Who?" he asks, stupidly.  _ Holy shit, what?  _ His heart leaps and he crushes it down, trying not to feel the unworthy surge of hope. 

"Armie and Elizabeth. Divorcing, apparently," Saoirse says, clearly. "Oh, there's a load of NDA shit while they work out the money and so on, but Emma said the way Elizabeth was talking, it was all but a done deal."

Timmy stares at Saoirse's pointed chin, not daring to make eye contact.  _ Not that you can, really, on camera,  _ he thinks dumbly. "Oh. Right," he says, flatly. It's the best he can do, when his heart feels like it's trying to claw its way out of his chest. He hopes against hope that all his emotions aren't visible to Saoirse. 

"You should try and talk to him," says Saoirse. "He might be feeling a bit shit. I don't know what they're doing about the kids and so on."

Timmy takes a breath. "I'll try again," he says, quietly. "But I get the impression he really has been avoiding me." He keeps his gaze lowered, trying to let his pounding heart calm to a normal pace. 

"No, Tim." Saoirse says it cajolingly. "He fucking loves you, alright? I'm sure he's just been busy, and he's probably had a million things on his mind. It's probably not been easy." 

"No. No, you're right." Timmy looks up to her, and tries a wonky smile. "I'll call him."

*

_ Missed FaceTime call: Sweet Tea _

_ Missed FaceTime call: Sweet Tea  _

Sweet Tea:  **hey dude, tried calling but i guess you were shooting or out or something! miss you, call me back?**

Armand:  **Sorry I missed your call...get you back soon, promise. Hope all good with you.**

Sweet Tea:  **fuck thisss Armieeeeee call me 🙁**

Armand:  **:) xx**

Timmy growls with annoyance and launches his phone onto the hotel bed.  _ What the fuck, Armie. What the actual fuck.  _

In the past three years he's never felt so shut out of Armie's life, of his confidence. 

*

He goes out drinking with his castmates. It's not exactly a mature decision, but then  _ I'm not mature, am I? Armie's always telling me what a kid I am. How I've got all the time in the world to grow up. How I don't need to rush.  _

_ I wonder if he feels like he rushed. Marriage and kids. And now divorce.  _

Suddenly, Timmy wants to cry; but then there are shots – more shots – on the table in front of him, and the loud ritual yell as they down them, together,  _ together  _ –

*

His head  _ hurts.  _

He doesn't move, for a while, but then he does – quite quickly, in the direction of the toilet. 

And then he doesn't move for another while after that.

By the time he crawls back into bed and picks up his phone, he feels fucking  _ hollow. _

He thumbs open his messages.

_ Oh fuck.  _

_ Oh Jesus fucking Christ.  _

Sweet Tea:  **why aren't u talki h to me hammer**

Sweet Tea:  **huh**

Sweet Tea:  **we always talk . + now ur just ignoring me + pretending we'll talk but we necer do**

Sweet Tea:  **ur my best friend. + i love u but ur being a fucki g asshole**

Sweet Tea:  **r u sick of me finally????? took 3 yrs**

Sweet Tea:  **this isn't fair. i love you. it's not fair**

Armand:  **Are you drunk, Tim?**

Armand:  **I mean, you're definitely drunk, but have you taken anything else?**

Armand:  **I hope you're okay, Sweet Tea.**

_ Missed FaceTime call: Armand _

_ Missed FaceTime call: Armand  _

Armand:  **Text me when you wake up, please.**

Timmy groans and puts his hand over his eyes.  _ Fuck. I could've said worse. I could've. At least I didn't mention his divorce. And we say 'I love you' to each other all the time. There's nothing different there.  _

_ Fuck.  _

Sweet Tea:  **awake. puked about 50 times. sorry about texting you.**

_ Rejected FaceTime call: Armand  _

Sweet Tea:  **no. look like shit. feel like shit. going to sleep**

_ Rejected FaceTime call: Armand  _

Sweet Tea:  **NO. i'm fucking mad at you, okay? you're the reason i feel like this. you want to talk now because you're worried but you're not my dad or big brother. i'm fine. text you later**

Timmy turns off his phone, hands shaky with nerves and anger. He takes several deep breaths, wondering if he's going to throw up again. Decides he isn't, sits up to drink most of a bottle of water, and curls down into sleep. 

*

He showers before turning his phone back on, sitting on the edge of the bed with a towel wrapped around his hips, cold droplets of water tracking down his chest and spine from his wet hair. 

He watches the notifications, swiping away everything that isn't Armie. Hesitates, then opens the messages.

Armand:  **I'm not trying to be your big brother or your dad, Tim, I promise.**

Armand:  **Believe me.**

Armand:  **Guess you've turned off your phone because these aren't delivering but I'm sorry, okay? I didn't know not talking to me for a bit would be difficult for you**

Armand:  **I'm not sick of you. Won't ever be sick of you.**

Armand:  **Please text me when you wake up.**

Timmy sighs and rubs his eyes. 

Sweet Tea:  **awake. sorry again. it's okay xxx**

Armand:  **You're my best friend too, Tim. I always want to talk to you.**

Sweet Tea:  **i just...i said i missed you, Armie.**

Armand: **I know, I'm sorry. I miss you all the time, so it feels normal.**

Timmy's heart pounds in his chest. It's rare for Armie to say things like that, even rarer by text. On the phone, maybe, sometimes, with an ironical expression. 

Sweet Tea:  **how could you not know how much i always want to talk to you**

There's a pause before the answer, and Timmy's breathing is fast and ragged in his throat.

Armand:  **Don't think I'm capable of flattering myself where you're concerned, Tim.**

Timmy stares at the words. He closes his eyes, swallows, throat tight with fear and need. 

Sweet Tea:  **you just have to listen to me, Armie. always asking for more of your time, more of your attention.**

_ More of your love.  _ His breath hitches as he sends the message. 

Armand:  **You have it all, Tim. I swear.**

Timmy groans and falls back on the bed. His heart is racing.  _ What does that mean. What does that fucking mean.  _

For a second, his finger hovers over the FaceTime button; but he can't. He just  _ can't  _ right now. He knows he won't have the courage to say half the things they're skirting around via text, in person. It'll become a normal chat, a catch-up, and this moment will be lost. 

Sweet Tea:  **i want to know everything going on in your life, even if it's just that you tried a new burger place, you know?**

_ Or if you're, I don't know, getting a divorce. _

Armand:  **Okay. Things haven't been that easy lately. Work has been busy, but I've had some personal shit going on too and I didn't exactly know how to talk about it.**

Sweet Tea:  **oh :( what's up? is there anything i can do?**

Sweet Tea:  **you still don't have to tell me btw**

Sweet Tea:  **sorry i was pushy**

Armand:  **You weren't being pushy. I clammed up on you, and I'm sorry. Elizabeth and I are getting divorced.**

Timmy swallows. Armie must be able to see that he's read the message. He tries to think of an appropriate response. 

Sweet Tea:  **holy fuck dude i am so sorry**

He's suddenly incredibly grateful not to be on FaceTime.  _ He would've read on my face immediately that I knew already.  _

Sweet Tea:  **are you okay?**

Sweet Tea: **i mean shit, of course you're not. i'm so sorry. what's happening about h &f? **

Armand:  **Not sure yet. It's been mostly polite so far but my job is causing problems. Unless my lawyer can do something full custody may go to E.**

Sweet Tea:  **fuck. is she pushing for that?**

Armand:  **Not exactly. I mean she works too so it would be much better if we can work something out. But with me being away for weeks/months at a time it's hard. She's pushing for more money (settlement and child support). I understand why but it's…it's not nice seeing it all come down to this, you know?**

Timmy closes his eyes, imagining a life reduced to money and arrangements. 

Sweet Tea:  **of course. wish i could hug you rn**

Armand:  **Believe me, I wish the same thing. How long's the flight between London and Budapest? Haha**

Sweet Tea:  **2.5 hrs. are u back in london?**

Armand:  **Yes...only a few days shooting in France.**

Sweet Tea:  **seriously, you want me to come?**

Armand:  **You don't have time, do you?**

Sweet Tea:  **it would be short. like less than a day. but i could if u wanted me to**

Armand:  **Oh shit, Tim, you have no idea how much I want to say yes. I want you here more than you can possibly know. But...and this is fucking awkward...you know what the internet's like with us two. Until the divorce is over I could really do without any weird rumors going around**

Armand: **I am so sorry. Please don't hate me**

Sweet Tea: **i don't hate you. is that why you were ignoring me?**

Armand: **I wasn't ignoring you, and...no. I'm so sorry but I don't think I can really talk about that yet either? I'm sorry**

Timmy stares at his phone. Tears prickle behind his eyes. Before, it had felt like something – something was happening, something was changing. And now he feels confused and excluded once again. 

Armand:  **Fuck, I feel like I've hurt you now. Are you okay?**

_ You have hurt me. And if I could just see you – if we could just hug, for once, Armie, I haven't hugged you in so fucking long  _ –

Sweet Tea:  **no it's okay. i'm okay. just confused i guess**

Armand:  **Fuck, I'm sorry. I wish I could just hug you, Tim.**

The mirroring of his own wish takes Timmy's breath for a second. His heart aches.  _ I offered to come, but you don't want me to.  _

_ No. You think I can't because of the gay rumours you've been terrified of for three years.  _

_ Fuck.  _

He hesitates with his fingers over the phone keyboard, unsure what to write. He doesn't want to seem bitter or mean, but he just doesn't know how to be a good friend right now. 

_ I've tried. I've always fucking tried to be that, even when it felt like my heart was breaking.  _

Sweet Tea:  **don't apologise. it's okay. can we still text?**

Armand:  **Yes please, Tim. And call, when you want to. I can call now?**

Sweet Tea:  **not right now. got to go find some food. took a shower but i still feel like crap**

Timmy rubs his eyes, and fists his hand in his hair. He doesn't feel remotely ready to talk to Armie right now, to see him, even on the screen. The idea  _ hurts.  _

Armand:  **Tell me I haven't fucked things up, Tim.**

Again, the vulnerability and openness of Armie's answer takes Timmy by surprise. 

Sweet Tea:  **you haven't. promise** .

*

Armand: **It was a long fucking day shooting and I get back to an inbox full of documents from my lawyer to check.**

Armand:  **[image]**

Armand:  **I felt this situation called for scotch.**

His long, elegant fingers are in the shot too, wrapped around the glass. He's still wearing his wedding ring.  _ I wonder if he'll get the tattoo removed.  _

Timmy wants to kiss every knuckle. 

_ He texted first. He told me about his day.  _

_ Tell me I haven't fucked things up, Tim.  _

Sweet Tea:  **[image]**

Sweet Tea:  **sorry to be the worst but...i'm having dinner + drinks on the danube. look at that moon!**

Armand:  **You're right, you are the worst**

Sweet Tea:  **[video]**

Sweet Tea:  **there's soft violin music playing in the background**

Armand:  **Fuck you**

Armand:  **Also fuck you for sending me a picture and a video, neither of them including your face**

Sweet Tea: **i mean, all i got was your hand**

Sweet Tea:  **so**

Timmy grins, tuned out of the conversation around him. This feels like  _ them  _ again – happy to speak to one another, trading jokey insults. 

Armand:  **[image]**

Sweet Tea:  **Armiiiieeeee!** 😍  **you look tired bb**

Armand:  **ouch. don't kick an old man when he's down**

Sweet Tea:  **asshole. literally just tired. that's not actually code for 'you look like shit' you know**

_ Because you don't. You never ever fucking do.  _

Armand:  **Sometimes it is**

Sweet Tea:  **not when it's you** ❤️ 

Sweet Tea:  **[image]**

Sweet Tea:  **drinks are insanely cheap here. sorry if i look wasted**

Armand:  **Your hair is so long**

Sweet Tea:  **oh jesus grandpa are you about to tell me i look like a beatnik**

Armand:  **Fuck you so very much Chalamet**

Sweet Tea:  **love you Armand 😘**

Armand:  **Horrible boy.**

Sweet Tea:  **'boy'. no wonder i sometimes call you grandpa**

Armand:  **Fine. What should I call you, huh? I'm ten years older than you.**

Sweet Tea:  **nine years, three months and twenty-eight days**

Armand:  **Ok…**

Sweet Tea:  **not ten years.**

Armand:  **Well?**

Sweet Tea:  **my favourite is when you say it properly, like i taught you**

Armand:  **Fine**

Armand:  **Horrible Timothée**

Sweet Tea:  **it's a good thing i find you hilarious isn't it**

Armand:  **It's a good thing you're so endearing, isn't it**

Sweet Tea:  **i can't possibly be. i'm 23 and horrible, apparently**

Armand:  **Still. I bet you're cold even though it's a warm night. I bet at least one of your feet is tucked up on the chair. I bet the sleeve of your hoodie is folded over your left hand, and you kind of regret texting me because it means you can't fold the right one over too. See?**

Timmy takes a breath, his eyes stinging with how much he misses him. 

Sweet Tea:  **i bet your feet are bare. and you've got some terrible cooking show on in the background while you work. and you just refilled your scotch. do i know you too well?**

Armand:  **Far too well. But I like that you do.**

_ I know you too well to be this far away from you, Armie.  _

Sweet Tea:  **do you miss me?**

He hugs his phone while he waits for the response, tuning back into the conversation, laughing and joking for a minute –

Armand:  **A fuck of a lot, Timothée.**

And then, as Timmy wonders how to reply, as if Armie couldn't resist –

Armand:  **Do you miss me?**

Sweet Tea:  **never**

Armand:  **Asshole.**

Sweet Tea:  **always.**

Armand:  **I'm sorry. You know that?**

Sweet Tea:  **i'm sorry too. i think i'm too needy a lot of the time? i do know it's not normal for people to stay friends this long after making a film. if i get too much, just say**

Armand:  **Fuck, Tim. No. I go in circles in my head trying to figure out if I'm taking up too much of your time okay**

Sweet Tea: **i wish you'd take up more**

Sweet Tea:  **...and i'm cutting myself off there. need to go home. i'm being maudlin + embarrassing by text** 😂 

Armand:  **Not embarrassing. You should probably sleep though. What time are you getting up at the moment?**

Sweet Tea:  **aaaaaaaaaaa 6am shhh don't speak of it**

Armand:  **Get to bed, Timothée**

Sweet Tea:  **i'm going, i'm going, okay**

Armand:  **Goodnight, you.**

Sweet Tea:  **goodnight, Armie ❤️**

*

Sweet Tea:  **so don't freak out**

Armand:  **What**

Sweet Tea:  **i'm a bit injured in a minor-ish way**

_ Incoming FaceTime call: Armand _

"Hey," tries Timmy, attempting to sound casual even though the sight of Armie's frowning face has him breathless. 

Armie is not planning to be distracted, however. "What the hell is a 'minor-ish' injury, Chalamet?" 

"Nothing. It's nothing, honestly." Timmy rolls his eyes as Armie scoffs audibly. "It was just fight training. We'd been at it for a while and I came down too hard on the side of my foot. My ankle looks like crap, but it's just sprained."

"How do you  _ know  _ it's just sprained? Did they take you to a hospital?"

"No, but there's a doctor here –"

"A  _ good  _ doctor? Or some quack they've dug up from god knows –"

Timmy starts laughing. "How would I know, Hammer? I can't exactly demand to see her certificates, can I?" he giggles. "Look, here you go, Doctor Hammer." He holds his phone camera over his swollen ankle, then back up to his face, the picture flickering and resolving as the light balance changes. 

"I saw nothing, Chalamet." Armie's still frowning, but he's clearly trying not to laugh. "Just a glimpse of the world's palest leg. How? You've literally just been in the desert for a month."

Timmy rolls his eyes. "Factor fifty and a super weird clingy suit."

"Ooh, a treat for your fans then." Armie wiggles his eyebrows, teasing.

"Depends what gets you off, I guess. It's meant to be made of giant worm skin. So."

Armie laughs. "Huh. Sexy."

Timmy shrugs. "I told you." He smiles at Armie. "Are you done with your mother-hen act? Can I ask how you are?"

Armie gives him a fond look. "Sure. Go on then."

"Well? How are you, Armand?" 

He opens his mouth, and closes it again. Looks like he's rethinking his automatic answer. "Tired, Tim. Missing the kids. Sick of all the bullshit with the lawyers."

Timmy swallows. "Have...have you guys figured out what's happening with Harper and Ford?"

Armie shifts in his chair. "We seem to have found a sum where we can share physical and legal custody. If – if there's a bit of flexibility, it'll mean I can have them for the times I'm not traveling." He rubs his eyes. "It'll mean being in LA, of course. Close to them."

Timmy nods. "Well, you would've been anyway, right?"

Armie doesn't quite meet his eyes. "Yep. Yeah." 

"Armie, I – I know I said this before by text, but I really am so fucking sorry, man."

Armie catches his gaze. "I know. Thank you Tim." He takes a breath. "It's been a long time coming. Years. There's – there's relief, alongside…"

_ Alongside the sadness.  _ Timmy wants fiercely to hug him again. 

_ But you only had Ford a couple years ago.  _ He wonders if they'd tried to mend things with a second child. 

"I'm glad it's not all…" Timmy shrugs, grimaces awkwardly. "Sorry. I think whatever I say sounds fucking dumb in this context." 

Armie shakes his head, his gaze fixed on Timmy. "No. No, it doesn't." He takes a breath and seems to decide to lighten the mood. "Bear in mind my mom's reaction was based around breaking our bonds with Jesus, and my dad's was all about whether Elizabeth has any claim to the Hammer money I don't even use. So…pretty much anything you say is gonna sound reasonable, Tim."

Timmy snorts and ducks his head, trying to hide his amusement. "Sorry," he mumbles, looking up through his eyelashes. 

"So are you excused filming the next couple days, or…"

Timmy laughs. "No way. They'll just change things around a bit. My stunt guy'll do more, I guess."

"Oh, is he good? Do you get on well? I still text the guy from  _ Man from U.N.C.L.E., _ he was awesome."

Timmy grins, enthusiastic. "Yes, seriously, he is so fucking cool. He knows like six martial arts or something. And you'd laugh, I think he's actually skinnier than me."

Armie makes a horrified expression at the camera, prompting Timmy to put his middle finger up at him. 

"Jesus Christ, how." Armie laughs as Timmy continues to swear at him. 

"You're always so good for my self-esteem, Armie."

"Chalamet. Timmy. Elio. You  _ know _ I think you're beautiful."

"Fuck off, dickhead."

"Charming."

"Asshole."

"The  _ constant  _ abuse, Chalamet."

Timmy giggles. "I should go, Hammer. Love you, 'kay?"

"Take a hot bath for that ankle, Tim."

"Alright, alright, I will, mom."

Armie rolls his eyes. "Bye, you little fucker."

After Timmy hangs up, he gets a text.

Armand:  **Love you too, Tim. HOT BATH.**

Sweet Tea:  **i'm going, i'm going. ❤️**

*

Armand:  **Did you take that bath, Chalamet?**

Sweet Tea:  **yes, i did, and then i slept 8 hours, okay?**

Armand:  **Nice. I stayed up til 2 signing my life away and drinking scotch. Unwise.**

Timmy bites his lip and decides to ignore the 'signing my life away' for now.

Sweet Tea:  **there you were momming me when i should've been momming you all along**

Armand:  **True. If you could yell at me to go to bed at an acceptable time tonight, that would be awesome**

Sweet Tea:  **can do, bb**

Timmy gets a break after a few hours of filming. His ankle is throbbing, and he retreats to his room for a while. He starts running another hot bath, even though he won't have time for a long soak. Even if he just puts his ankle in it for a few minutes, it'll still help.

Sweet Tea:  **[image]**

Sweet Tea:  **here's me and lorenz (stunt guy) getting breakfast, since you were asking about him**

Timmy likes the photo; he'd pulled his usual peace sign, with half an idea of sending it to Armie later.

Armand:  **He's definitely not skinnier than you**

Armand:  **He looks chill**

Sweet Tea:  **yeah, he's a good dude**

Sweet Tea:  **how's your day? i'm back at the room soaking my ankle because it hurts again**

Sweet Tea:  **you were right about the hot bath**

Armand:  **Doctor Hammer is always right**

Sweet Tea:  **mom doctor Hammer**

Armand:  **I'm not trying to be your mom either, Chalamet**

Timmy stares at the message, biting his lip. He can tell there's something wrong, that Armie's mood is low, but he isn't sure how to fix it, what to say. 

Sweet Tea:  **you okay bb?**

Armand:  **Tired. Jealous of everyone who gets to be on set with you.**

_ Oh. The picture.  _ Timmy looks at it again. 

Sweet Tea:  **i always regret not having taken more pictures in Crema**

Sweet Tea:  **don't know if i have any selfies with you from back then**

He sees Armie type; hesitate and perhaps delete. There's a pause, then –

Armand:  **We were busy living it.**

_ I was busy falling so hard I had no idea how to behave, how to be around you. Especially in front of your wife.  _

Sweet Tea:  **true ☺️ and we'll be on set again together sometime i'm sure**

Armand:  **I know. Just a grumpy fucker today.**

Sweet Tea:  **[image]**

Sweet Tea:  **hot feet and a swollen cankle**

Armand:  **I'm going to take a long bath the minute I can get back to my room tonight**

Armand:  **Crap, being called. Later, Tim.**

Sweet Tea:  **later…**

*

Armand: **[image]**

Armand:  **Also hot feet. But no cankle**

Sweet Tea:  **jesus how much bubble bath did you use**

Armand:  **Well for decency's sake...if I'm going to take pictures in the bath**

Sweet Tea:  **good of you to be decent bb**

_ Not that you exactly need to, given how long we spent naked together in Crema.  _

Armand:  **I thought so**

Sweet Tea:  **god forbid my youthful eyes get a glimpse of Armie ankle**

Armand:  **I'm not into corrupting youths ten years younger than me thanks**

Sweet Tea:  **9 years, 3 months and 28 days**

Armand:  **Well that makes all the difference. Still don't know if you'll be able to handle this ankle**

Armand:  **[image]**

Sweet Tea:  **i'm gonna faint**

Armand:  **Chalamet, you're ridiculous**

Sweet Tea:  **thoroughly corrupted now, sorry**

Armand:  **Truly you are hilarious**

Sweet Tea:  **and you're apparently a victorian**

Armand:  **Miss you, fucker.**

Timmy's about to fire back with 'in the bath?' but he hesitates and chickens out. 

Sweet Tea:  **miss you too. you going to bed soon? i'm an hour ahead + sleepy**

Armand:  **Thanks for nagging me. Yes, will do. You should sleep**

Sweet Tea:  **night bb** 😘 

Armand:  **Goodnight, Sweet Tea.**

*

Sweet Tea:  **did u say you're going to Cornwall for filming soon?**

Armand:  **Yes, week after next**

Sweet Tea:  **cool**

Armand:  **Why?**

Sweet Tea:  **doesn't matter. brian needs me in london for a meeting + to sign some stuff but it's flexible so i figured i'd schedule it when you're outside london then the internet rumours won't be too wild ☺️**

Armie sees the message immediately, but it takes him a while to answer.

Armand:  **I'm sorry, Tim.**

Sweet Tea:  **genuinely doesn't matter bb ❤️**

Armand:  **I still wish I could hug you.**

Sweet Tea:  **you too**

Armand:  **When did I become 'baby', huh? I'm ten years older than you and a lot taller and heavier**

Sweet Tea:  **9y, 3m, 28d**

Sweet Tea:  **bb's a bit different anyway**

Sweet Tea:  **but also I don't have to call you that so just say if you hate it**

Armand: **I don't hate it. How is it different?**

Timmy's heart races in his chest.  _ I have to stop doing this to myself.  _

Sweet Tea:  **can also stand for big brother. just a general endearment i think**

Armand:  **You don't want me to be your big brother.**

Sweet Tea:  **i was pissed and hungover and being an asshole. you can be whatever you want Armie**

Armand:  **It's okay. I don't really want to be your big brother either.**

_ What do you want to be, Armie? Because I want you to be nothing short of everything.  _

Sweet Tea:  **you can be mec, mec.**

Armand:  **What's that?**

Sweet Tea:  **it's like buddy or dude, i guess. don't worry, it's very manly. befitting a tall muscly guy 9 years, 3 months and 28 days older than me**

Armand:  **You really do mess with me don't you**

Sweet Tea:  **don't pretend masculinity isn't hilarious mec...because it really really is**

Armand:  **What do you want me to do? Beg you to call me bb again??? Fine, I'm begging, Chalamet**

Sweet Tea:  **you're so dramatic bb 😘**

Armand:  **Asshole.**

*

Sweet Tea:  **that was a long fucking day. my heart rate is dangerously low...i need a picture of your ankle**

Armand:  **You're such an idiot**

Sweet Tea:  **dying! quick, send (ankle) nudes**

Armand:  **Jesus Christ it's a good thing the internet can't see our text history**

Sweet Tea:  **saoirse showed me a conversation with some dude once where he tried to convince her he'd literally die if she didn't send nudes. + then that blue balls was an actual medical condition. men are fucking dumb**

Armand:  **anyone famous??**

Sweet Tea:  **sadly no, just a gross little dude from a dating app who apparently had no idea he was pulling way above his weight. sent her dick pics once she told him to fuck off, too. just in case that would change her mind**

Armand:  **Seems unlikely.**

Sweet Tea:  **right???? also: rapey. ugh**

Armand:  **You and Saoirse haven't decided to give it a go yet then? :)**

Timmy's breath catches in his throat.  _ What? Holy shit.  _

_ He's seen me read the message.  _

Sweet Tea:  **whoaaa that conversation took a turn??? dude she's like my actual sister**

Armand:  **You had chemistry in Lady Bird**

Sweet Tea:  **did we??????? i mean, Kyle is the worst. a selfish whining little bitch. does he really have chemistry with anyone other than himself? also you've hung out with us in rl...cmon**

Armand:  **You make each other laugh**

Sweet Tea:  **so do a lot of people! very much not a thing that's ever going to happen man**

Armand:  **So are you siblings with everyone you have sex with on screen or…?**

_ You're not my fucking brother, Armie. Or only in the way Oliver was Elio's. Only in the way that you got so far under my skin I feel like you've always been there.  _

Sweet Tea:  **we talked about this bb. you're a special category of...you. my best friend. my Armiver.**

Armie sees the text but doesn't reply for a minute; for two. It looks like he might be typing, then he stops. 

Timmy can't take the suspense of waiting. He flicks away to Instagram, scrolling but barely seeing what flows past. 

Armand:  **I'm sorry for the nosy question x**

It feels like an anticlimax.

_ That fucking 'x' again.  _ Timmy's come to regard it as an old enemy. 

Sweet Tea:  **it's okay, i don't mind. you can ask what you want**

Armie types; stops. Types and stops again. 

Armand:  **Are you into men or women?**

Timmy's heart lurches. 

Sweet Tea:  **everyone, as far as i know. but only slept with women so far**

Sweet Tea:  **overall the general headcount is low tho so 😂**

Armand:  **How???? You're Timothée Chalamet, the hottest young thing around**

Timmy groans and locks his phone.  _ What do you want me to say, Armie? Being horribly in love with someone you can't have tends to fuck with your libido.  _

Sweet Tea:  **maybe you're going to think this is pathetic but i'm not particularly into fuck + leave**

Sweet Tea:  **actual human connection + mutual respect is kind of sexy don't you think**

Armand:  **I'm sorry. Yes. 100%. I don't think that's pathetic**

Sweet Tea:  **i wasn't trying to be snappy. just...idk. you sometimes tell me i should be enjoying my youth + freedom but i don't think fucking around is it for me**

Sweet Tea:  **plus i can't even have a conversation with someone on a plane without it ending up on twitter so 😱😂 better hope my sexual skillz are up to scratch**

Armand:  **Oh fuck the joys of being single...can't say I've missed it**

Sweet Tea:  ***single and famous. you'll be all over those tabloids soon bb**

Armand:  **Great. Won't that be nice**

Sweet Tea: 🙃  **hope she doesn't kiss and tell in too much detail**

Armand:  **You assume woman then**

Timmy's stomach ties itself in a knot. 

Sweet Tea:  **lol. armie you say things like 'no woman has ever found balls attractive' in interviews. you come off v straight bb**

Armie types for a long time, but his answer is short when it comes. 

Armand:  **Elizabeth didn't think so.**

Timmy takes a breath. He feels shivery.

Sweet Tea:  **well i guess it has to be hard when your husband gets shipped with another guy all the time**

Armand:  **Guess so. I should get to bed Tim**

Timmy frowns at the message.  _ At least there's no 'x'.  _

Sweet Tea:  **me too. sleep well bb ❤️**

*

Sweet Tea:  **how was your day?**

Sweet Tea:  **listen what you said last night was on my mind all day. i really hope i didn't make things worse for you with Elizabeth. hope i didn't overstep any boundaries or fuck anything up.**

Armand:  **Don't be ridiculous, Tim. We made a mess of our marriage all on our own.**

Sweet Tea:  **are you okay?**

Armand:  **Sad I guess. But honestly okay.**

Sweet Tea:  **miss you man. want to hug you**

Armand:  **Yes please. Doesn't help that Maxim de Winter is a miserable fucker**

Sweet Tea:  **omfg i just inhaled tea 😂**

Armand:  **Well he is. Earl Grey?**

Sweet Tea:  **u know it**

Armand:  **But is it...sweet**

Sweet Tea:  **you know it isn't bb. But i am ☺️❤️**

Armand:  **Tell me about your day**

Sweet Tea:  **ankle is good again! so back to normal fight training + scenes**

Armand:  **Christ, I guess you're ripped now huh**

Sweet Tea:  **oh shut up muscle man. just because i always look like a ten year old next to you**

Armand:  **I wasn't messing with you Chalamet! I swear**

Sweet Tea:  **hmm. well i'm definitely a bit more toned than on call me? but still as skinny as ever. i'll just imagine your puke face like we're on facetime I guess**

Armand:  **Chalamet. Sweet Tea. Don't be like that.**

Timmy grins. 

Sweet Tea:  **it's okay Armand, you don't have to pretend**

Armand:  **You don't even know how ridiculous you are.**

Sweet Tea:  **gotta sleep dude. early call in the morning. love you ❤️**

Armand:  **I love you too.**

*

Armand:  **Are you out to your parents Tim**

Sweet Tea:  **not specifically. but i don't think it'll surprise them whenever i bring a guy home.**

Armand:  **When...spy ds Like you have someone in mi d**

Sweet Tea:  **you drinking bb? ☺️**

Armand:  **Cast and crew drinks**

Sweet Tea:  **nice. no-one in mind! but i guess it'll happen sometime right**

Armand:  **Youre lucky. W your parents**

Sweet Tea:  **i know. they're the best.**

Timmy sighs.  _ And your mom's a Jesus freak who won't even watch our film.  _

Armand:  **I habe this memory of qhen I was 5. I said to my mpm I wanted to marry a boy in my xlass at school and she said I mustnt ever aay anything like tgat again or even thing it because god was everywhere and heard everything eben in our heads**

Sweet Tea:  **that's shit, dude. i wish she hadn't said that to you. no little kid deserves to hear that.**

Armand:  **I didnt understqnd why it was wrong**

Sweet Tea:  **it wasn't wrong, Armie. It was never wrong.**

Armand:  **I hope you find a guy you love Tim. To meet tour mom and dad. I want you to be happu**

Sweet Tea: **i know. you're the best** ❤️  **are you going back to the hotel soon? it's late**

Armand:  **Might stay for onw more**

Sweet Tea:  **okay. drink water when you get in though 😂 and text me in the morning. love you ❤️**

Armand:  **I love you  xx**

*

Sweet Tea:  **heyyyyyy so how's that head this morning Armand**

Armand:  **I can hear your smugness over a thousand miles**

Sweet Tea:  **oop bit grumpy then i guess**

Armand:  **Fuck you**

Sweet Tea:  **if i was there i would bring you coffee despite your very bad attitude**

Armand:  **Sorry. Trying not to be sick**

Sweet Tea:  **you'll feel better**

Armand:  **I know but ugh**

Sweet Tea:  **can you order breakfast then**

Armand:  **Not sure my voice works**

Sweet Tea:  **then i am afraid you'll just have to die**

Armand:  **I know. That's what I thought**

*

Armand:  **Sorry about texting you drunk and rambling about crap**

Sweet Tea:  **i don't mind. how are you feeling?**

Armand:  **Shit but not as shit as earlier**

Sweet Tea:  **oh that's good then i guess**

Sweet Tea:  **back on set...later**

Armand:  **Arrogante**

*

Sweet Tea:  **catch you Elio-ing me earlier**

Armand:  **Well there you were later-ing me**

Sweet Tea:  **you going to keep off the drinks tonight bb**

Armand:  **Ugh definitely. Room service, bath and bed. Cornwall in a couple days...when you scheduled for London?**

Sweet Tea:  **day after tomorrow. need me to get brian to set up a pap thing while you're visible in cornwall?**

Armand:  **No it's fine. Tomorrow is a video call with Elizabeth to tell the kids what's going on :/**

Sweet Tea:  **oh shit, i'm sorry man. that'll be tough. i'm here if you need to talk, okay?**

Armand:  **Thanks.**

*

Timmy's scrolling Instagram, catching up on what he's been tagged in and liking posts from the cast. It's a cute picture: him cuddling Zendaya's dog Noon, while she kisses his muzzle. Timmy likes it and glances down to see:

Liked by  **armiehammer** and  **186,761 others**

The 'Zenothée' shipping's already begun in the comments. 

*

Sweet Tea:  **i was expecting some racy ankle bath pics by now tbh Hammer**

Sweet Tea:  **of your racy ankles**

Armand:  **Sorry, they're already in bed x**

Sweet Tea:  **good! love you** ❤️ 

Timmy stares at the 'x' for a while, but tries not to worry.  _ He's just getting an early night.  _

*

Sweet Tea:  **hope today's been okay. thinking of you this evening, i know it will be hard but h &f are such great kids + you will still be an amazing dad to them. love you ❤️ **

Armand:  **Thank you Tim. It was pretty shit but at least it's over. Heading to bed x**

*

Sweet Tea:  **[image]**

Sweet Tea:  **you know airports aren't my favorite places. you on your way to cornwall?**

Armand:  **[image]**

Armand:  **In the car.**

Armand:  **You look tired.**

Sweet Tea:  **oh no...did you mean i look like shit**

Armand:  **I thought we agreed it wasn't code for that**

Sweet Tea:  **i didn't know you agreed! what a relief**

Sweet Tea:  **tell me you're okay after last night bb**

Armand:  **I'm okay. Honestly.**

Sweet Tea:  **always miss you on flights Armie**

Armand:  **you got enough stuff to do/listen to?**

Sweet Tea:  **yeah. you know what i'm like though**

Armand:  **I do. You'll be alright Tim. Sorry I'm not there**

Sweet Tea:  **not your fault. boarding. love you** ❤️

Armand:  **Love you Tim.**

*

Sweet Tea:  **landed! how's cornwall?**

Armand:  **Just checking in at the hotel. Flight okay?**

Sweet Tea:  **fine???? as flights go. short at least**

Armand:  **About the best you ever say about them…**

Sweet Tea:  **yep**

Sweet Tea:  **when do you start filming down there**

Armand:  **Tomorrow**

Sweet Tea:  **well you'd better go out and be visible tonight dude because I'm about to come through Heathrow arrivals and I guess the usual pap dickheads will be there 🙄**

Armand:  **Tim it's fucking torture being in the same country and not getting a hug**

Sweet Tea: **i know. it's okay though. when do you sign those papers huh**

Armand:  **Why do you have to be so fucking nice to me?**

Armand:  **We both have them (on email). I can sign mine tonight but I've no idea if I'll get confirmation Elizabeth's signed hers today or not**

Sweet Tea:  **i'm nice to you because you're the best person i've ever met. would you rather i be an asshole?**

Armand:  **You can't just say things like that Chalamet**

Sweet Tea:  **i'm not just saying it. and next you're going to say i'm only 23 so i haven't met many people and/or don't know what i'm talking about but that's not true so shhh**

Armand:  **I don't know what to say now**

Sweet Tea:  **that's okay. you don't have to say anything.**

Timmy locks his phone and shoves it into his jeans pocket, frowning at himself.  _ Let's put that away before I say any other dumb OTT shit. _ He pulls down the peak of his cap and pulls his hood up over it, then slides on his sunglasses. Luckily the driver is waiting for him, and he's in the car and on the way to the hotel pretty quickly. 

He forces himself to wait to look at his phone until he's in his hotel room. He only has a backpack for an overnight stay, so he hangs things up and puts his toiletries in the bathroom, plugs his phone in at the wall – and only then does he allow himself to open the conversation with Armie. 

Armand:  **Guess this is where I feel old, Tim. I've got kids so they're always my first priority. But you're the best person over the age of 5 I've met too.**

Timmy half-smiles.  _ You don't have to pretend, Armie.  _

Sweet Tea:  **they should be your favourite people, Armie. i'm glad they are. nothing and no-one can or should compete with them. getting ready to go to early dinner/meeting with Brian**

Armand:  **Pretty sure you're an immortal Tim. Too much wisdom in that 23-year-old head.**

Sweet Tea:  **i'm down for being an Only Lovers Left Alive style vampire. I can do stylishly depressed immortality**

Armand:  **Still never seen that movie**

Sweet Tea:  **wtf. i will make you watch it with me**

Armand:  **Fine. It's a date.**

Timmy growls and grimaces at his phone.  _ Why do you have to be like this. You don't know what you do to me.  _ The room phone rings to let him know his taxi is downstairs.

Sweet Tea:  **☺️ later bb ❤️**

Armand:  **'Later'. I'm going to dinner and to hopefully get Lily to put us on Instagram in Cornwally places…**

Timmy sighs.  _ Lily. She doesn't know how lucky she is. _

*

Timmy drops exhaustedly onto the side of the bed. An early start, the anxiety of a flight, and a long business-filled dinner with Brian have worn him out. At least he can sleep in a bit in the morning; the flight's not until half past three in the afternoon. It'll be his first lie-in for a while. 

He unlaces his boots; pulls his sweater and t-shirt over his head in one go. Stands up to push off his shoes, socks and trousers. Brushes his teeth in the bathroom, staring blankly at his reflection, thinking about Armie teasing him that he must be ripped now. 

He hopes there's a message from Armie on his phone –  _ just a goodnight, just to know he thought about me  _ – but he puts off looking in case there isn't. 

_ I could check Instagram. See if Lily's posted.  _ He finishes brushing his teeth, uses the toilet and drops into bed. 

She has posted; a photo of a few of the cast and crew at dinner, a seafood place that she's tagged into the post.  _ Perfect.  _ Timmy stares at Armie, at his wide Californian smile. His chest hurts with missing him. 

He lets himself look at their conversation.

Armand:  **Good dinner?**

Sweet Tea:  **fine. so tired. just in bed**

Armand:  **Oh hey :) Figured you'd already gone to sleep**

Sweet Tea:  **nearly. saw lily's picture 👍✌️**

Armand:  **You okay Sweet Tea? I'm having a scotch in my room (just one). Just got an email from my lawyer to say we've both signed. So.**

Timmy blinks exhaustedly.  _ He's divorced.  _ He sighs, trying to push away the hope that flares uselessly in his chest. 

_ He's still straight. He's still got two kids. He's still my best friend.  _

Sweet Tea: **i hope you're okay?**

Armand:  **Tired. Relieved. Sad. You know?**

_ Outgoing FaceTime call: Armie  _

Armie picks up immediately. "Hey." His hotel room is softly lit, maybe just one yellow lamp. 

"Hey." Timmy only has one bedside lamp on too, and he knows he's not particularly visible. He's too tired to move and fix it though. 

"You're half asleep." Armie's voice is quiet, fond. "Long day, I guess." 

Timmy nods, stifling a yawn. "Just wanted to check you're okay." 

"I am." Armie takes a sip of what must be scotch. "Feels weird ending it in a separate country. Feels weird that we  _ can _ do it like that."

Timmy nods again. He's not sure what to say. Not sure if anything would be enough. His eyes are closing. 

"Wish I could hug you, Hammer."

"Tim…" he hears Armie sigh, but then his memory's fuzzy, and he slips into sleep. 

*

He wakes to the sound of the FaceTime ringtone, blinking hazily at his phone. He's not in time to pick up but he sees the messages. One from last night:

Armand:  **Hung up on you, sleeping beauty**

And this morning: 

Armand:  **Tim, which hotel are you in?**

Armand:  **Shit, sorry about this but I'm about to wake you up with FaceTime**

Sweet Tea:  **four seasons park lane, why? what's going on Armie?**

Armand:  **Room number?**

Sweet Tea:  **632\. what's happening? are you okay?**

Nerves squirm in Timmy's gut.  _ What the fuck's going on? Has he sent me something?  _ Armie's not texting back and Timmy pulls at his curls, frustrated and confused. 

He gets up and uses the bathroom, more as a way of passing time, a kind of talisman to make Armie text him. It doesn't. 

Sweet Tea:  **Armie? cmon dude what's happening**

When the knock comes at his door, Timmy shakes his head. He rushes to the bathroom to find the complimentary bathrobe, fumbling with the stupid knot in the sash. Pulling it on, he opens the door, expecting some kind of parcel or delivery. 

It's the shoes he notices first; his brain says  _ Armie  _ before anything else about the 6'5 presence of his favourite human registers with him. 

"Fuck. What?" He has no idea what to do. He just stands in the doorway, staring at Armie, watching his expression slip through various agonies. "Are you – okay?" 

"I – yes. No. Maybe. I don't know." 

"What – what does  _ that  _ mean?" 

Armie's eyebrows draw together in a pained expression. "Can – sorry. Can I come in?" 

"Fuck. Yes, of course you can." Timmy steps backwards, just staring at him. Something in his mind vaguely registers that the robe isn't closed but it doesn't feel weird; he's wearing boxers, and they aren't any less substantial than a 1980s bathing suit or  _ being bare-ass naked with him  _ –

He buries his hands in the pockets of his robe, and blinks at Armie. "Why are you – how are you –  _ here?"  _

"The car. The driver. They're – they're shooting without me for a day. I asked – I had to. Just a few hours, really. You must be leaving soon, I know, and –" Armie seems to get stuck. 

"Did you come in the back way?" asks Timmy blankly. "No-one saw you? I thought – I thought –"

Armie shakes his head. "No-one saw me." He takes a shaky, ragged breath. "Tim –"

Timmy blinks.  _ "Fuck.  _ Armie. You're – hug me." He steps forward, then, and Armie does too, and his arms are tight around Timmy's back under the robe. Timmy clings to him, to his shoulders, to his neck; burying his nose against Armie's ear, breathing him in. "You're  _ here,"  _ he says, stupidly. 

"I had to." Armie's voice is just a rumble against Timmy's chest. "I had to." 

"Is something wrong?" asks Timmy, then, pulling back a little. "Are you – I don't know, seeing your lawyer or something?" 

"No." Armie takes a breath, his expression setting. He steps back, out of Timmy's grasp. "No, I –" he sits down on the edge of the bed, on the rumpled duvet that Timmy immediately wants to straighten. He leans forward, arms on his knees, his fingers knotting themselves together. "It's just for – I had to see you, Tim." 

Timmy hunches his shoulders; then pushes his right hand into the mess of curls at the back of his head. "Me?" he says, blankly. He feels himself blush. He's never heard Armie this hesitant. 

"Fuck, Tim. I don't even know when we'll next be in the same country." 

"Okay." Timmy knows he sounds weird, but his heart is racing. "I – thank you. My flight's at like half past three though –"

"I know. I mean – I figured." Armie drops his head between his shoulders, then looks up again. "Listen, Tim, I – I'm probably about to fuck everything up, in which case – fuck, I don't know. I'll have to hope you're kind. It's a good bet. You're always so fucking kind." 

"Armie –" 

Armie cuts him off, shaking his head. "Please, Tim.  _ Please  _ listen." 

Timmy hugs the bathrobe around himself, and nods. 

"I'm a single fucking dad, now, Tim, and life with the kids is going to be hard, and scheduling everything – work, and them, and making sure Elizabeth and I both see them at the right times for the right _amount_ of time, and promos, Christ, that's like a whole other…" he trails off, glancing up at Timmy with tired grey-blue eyes. "And – and I'm aware I look like I'm rebounding _hard,_ here, but –" he takes a shaky breath. "Fuck, well, here we go." He looks at Timmy like he's saying goodbye. "I feel like I'm lying, Tim. I keep – I keep saying it back to you, over and over again, and pretending I'm saying it the same way you are. But I'm not. I'm – I'm fucking in love with you. It's not your fault, and it's not the only reason, but you're why I couldn't go back. Why I couldn't keep – keep going with it. You." His hands unclasp and clasp again, like a prayer. His voice shakes when he adds, "I had to tell you. And – and I couldn't do it on FaceTime." 

Timmy's mind is a blank. A racing, confused, rejoicing blank. 

_ He loves me. He loves me like I love him. Like I've loved him for three fucking years.  _

"And, Tim, I'm not – I'm not  _ expecting  _ anything. Even if – even if you  _ did _ – feel the same… There are so many reasons why this wouldn't work, why we shouldn't even try – your career, I mean  _ fuck, _ how many big-name actors actually come out? And, Christ, would you even want to date a dad? – LA, I mean when I'm not working I'll basically always have to be there, and you  _ love  _ New York – I'm  _ ten years  _ older than you, which all the nosy fuckers who'd print fuck-knows-what about us endlessly would make the absolute  _ most  _ of –" 

Timmy blinks, and shakes his head. "Nine years, three months and twenty-eight days," he mumbles. "Not ten." 

Armie looks up at him, briefly speechless. Then he gives a wild, slightly hysterical huff of laughter. "Fuck. Tim – say something. Something that's not that." 

Timmy shoves his hands into the pockets of the robe. He has no idea what he's going to say until he says it. "I'm in love with you too. I have been for three years. Do you really not know that? I'm – sometimes it hurt so much I thought I'd fucking die." He takes a shaky breath. He could cry, now. "It's early, and I need to shower and brush my teeth and I don't – I don't know what happens now, Armie." 

_ "Tim."  _ Armie just looks  _ sorry,  _ now, and he's up on his feet in a second, closing Timmy in a hug that has him breathless and fighting tears. "I love you. I'm so sorry I hurt you." 

Timmy shakes his head against Armie's chest, burying his face in the soft tan skin of his neck. He takes a breath. "I love you. I love you." His eyes feel hot; tears slip from beneath the closed lids. 

"Timmy." Armie holds him tight. "Fuck," he mutters. "Come on. Come and sit." 

Timmy tucks his feet up onto the edge of the bed when they sit; hugs his knees as Armie puts his arm around him. He rests his head against Armie's shoulder. "I'm sorry," he says, thickly. "Probably doesn't seem like it but this is actually very good news." 

Armie huffs a laugh, and kisses Timmy's temple. "I mean to be honest I was fully expecting to have been let down gently by now, so. Any of this is good. I'll take it." 

"Really? I mean –  _ really?  _ Because my family, my friends, and like, thousands of random internet strangers plus most of the world's media seem to be able to tell I'm in love with you, so –"

Armie hums amused contentment against Timmy's hair. "Say that again, please." 

"Which bit?"

"You know which bit."

"I'm in love with you?" 

"Yeah, that bit." 

"I'm in love with you." 

"Can I kiss you?" 

Timmy swallows. "Can I brush my teeth?" 

"Nope." 

"Yes. If you really want to kiss my gross sleep mouth."

"I really, really do." 

"Are you sure? Because this has been a long fucking time coming, Armie, and I really could just brush my –"

"Tim. You're rambling 'cause you're nervous." 

Timmy nods, hugging his knees tighter. "Aren't you?"

Tentatively, as if he might be denied the touch, Armie rests one large hand on Timmy's knee. He brushes his thumb back and forth, feather-light caresses that make a mess of Timmy within seconds. "We kissed a lot of times already." 

"That was Elio and Oliver." Timmy's voice is young, stubborn. 

Armie hesitates. "Not – always. Not always for me." He reads Timmy's surprise; gives a rueful little huff. "And that's why you're a better actor than me." 

"No." Timmy shakes his head. His heart is racing. "I just – needed that. I knew – I knew it couldn't be anything else. So." 

Armie bites his lip. "Can I – can I just be really clear about one thing? I want anything you'll give me, Tim. And I can't believe I'm saying this because you're twenty-three and I need to shut the fuck up but – a relationship, a life. Do you understand?" 

Timmy blinks, and then nods. "Yes." 

"Is that – okay? Good?" 

Timmy moves, then, kneeling to face him on the edge of the bed and the position is awkward but Armie's  _ here,  _ offering him everything he's ever wanted, and his heart feels raw, too full to worry about picture-perfect kisses. 

Kneeling, he's a little taller than Armie and the first press of lips has his chest tight with nerves, suddenly examining how to kiss and breathe for the first time since he was fifteen –

Armie's hand is on Timmy's side, outside the bathrobe, and he doesn't make any move to pull him closer so Timmy makes it for him, climbing into Armie's lap, the sash tangling between them across his belly. He presses his chest and stomach to Armie's, adoring the sensory rush of clothes against his skin, the feeling of Armie's body warm and solid beneath. 

He kisses him again, hands on strong shoulders, in soft golden-brown hair. It's surer this time, and Timmy remembers being Elio,  _ clinging  _ to Elio, focusing on  _ Oliver, Oliver, Oliver. _

"Timmy. Oh, god. Oh, fuck." And now Armie's overwhelmed, his eyes fixed bright on Timmy's, as if it's only hit him now that this is true. 

Timmy touches his face; watches ripples of emotion like a pebble dropped into a stream. Kisses him again, because it's too much and never,  _ ever _ enough at exactly the same time. 

"I love you." Armie says it like it's the only thing that matters. 

Timmy's hands find the bottom of Armie's sweater and t-shirt; ruck them up and pull them off together. He kisses Armie's neck, his shoulder, his collarbone; nudges his head back so he can lick the dip at the base of Armie's neck because it's haunted him, because he's missed it, because he could worship it, if asked. 

He can't feel, in this position, if Armie's hard; his own cock is steel and he's oddly bashful about it, trying to keep himself back a little, trying not to let Armie know. He nibbles at Armie's shoulder, adoring every inch of skin; moves upwards, kissing and licking his neck, huffing a groan when he finds Armie's earlobe, because  _ how many times have I wanted to kiss his damn earlobes  _ –

"Timmy –" Armie sounds breathless. 

Timmy pulls back, hands on Armie's shoulders, suddenly fearful that he's gone too far, that Armie isn't ready, perhaps isn't finding the reality of Timmy, of a  _ man,  _ as attractive as he'd thought. 

"Tim – we don't have to – I know we've not got long and I know you don't do fuck and leave –" Armie huffs a breathless laugh. His expression manages to convey that he hates himself slightly for saying anything. There are spots of high colour on his cheeks, and his lips are red. He only looks a little bit tousled, and yet Timmy's stomach flips with it, with the fierce wish to make him look  _ debauched.  _

"Oh, I'd fuck and leave  _ you, _ Armie." Timmy grins, because  _ he's here and he loves me and he wants to make sure I'm okay, and he's Armie and he's the best person I've ever met and he gets my stupid sense of humor.  _

Armie's eyelids drop and he starts to grin too. "Right. Didn't take long for you to get back to cheeky little fucker, did it –" he wraps his arms around Timmy and flips them over, up and into the center of the bed, holding Timmy down with his weight, with his glorious, beautiful body. 

Timmy digs his fingernails luxuriously into Armie's shoulders, like a cat flexing its claws. "You  _ are  _ hard. Thank fuck."

Armie gives him a look of mingled softness and amused exasperation. "Did you really think I might not be?" 

"I mean – I don't know. Sometimes the reality's a disappointment."

"Yeah, well, sometimes you have a pretty good idea exactly what the reality is because you've already spent about eight thousand years in bed with him, pretending to have sex with him and trying not to look like you're dying inside."

Timmy snorts a laugh, even though he could just as easily cry. He strokes Armie's shoulder, his chest. "I know. I love you." 

"I'm going to take this bathrobe off you now."

"Solid plan."

"Sarcastic little shit." Armie kisses Timmy's chest and licks across his nipple. 

Timmy gasps and groans, then goes rigid. "Oh, fuck. Armie, I just realised – I don't have anything with me, I didn't – I mean, funnily enough I had no idea I'd be having sex –" 

Armie kisses him. "Doesn't matter, does it? We don't have to do anything that involves condoms. There's one in my wallet but fuck knows how long it's been there." 

Timmy relaxes. "Okay. Sorry. Thanks."

"Chalamet. Don't apologise." 

"No. You know what I mean." 

"Always thought Oliver and Elio were a bit – er – ambitious – going straight for it on the first night." 

Timmy smiles and presses his forehead to Armie's. "Not sure they knew what their options were." 

"No." Armie nudges Timmy's nose with his own. "Forgive me if I'm not great at this to start with? I know it's not exactly ideal...wish we had more time, 'cause I'm pretty sure this isn't going to be a great display of either skill or stamina." 

Timmy giggles. "Thank fuck  _ you _ said it." He bites his lip. "I've wanted you for three years. This may take, like,  _ seconds."  _

Armie grins. "Fine. Whatever." There's a flicker of vulnerability in his expression as he says, "we've got time. Not much today, I know, but...generally." There's just a hint of a question behind it. 

"Yes." Timmy kisses him, licking into his mouth. "Yes yes yes." 

"Bathrobe off." Armie slips his arm around Timmy's waist, pulling him tight against his body. 

"You say that, but you realise I can't actually move at all like this."

Armie doesn't let go, nuzzling Timmy's neck with his lips. "Alright alright. Fine." 

"So...you have to...let go?" 

Armie groans and bites softly at Timmy's throat, then pushes up to a kneeling position. 

Timmy sits up and pushes the bathrobe from his shoulders, then reaches for the button of Armie's jeans. Lets his fingers hover there for a second, until Armie cups Timmy's face with his hand and nods. 

The button slips through easily, and Timmy moves his attention to the zipper –

"Also I've never been with a man before and I've been sleeping with the same person for the past decade –"

"Armie. You're rambling 'cause you're nervous."

"Yup. Yes. I guess that's true." 

Timmy pulls the zipper down slowly, his stomach flipping at the feeling of Armie's hard cock pressing behind it. "It's okay. I've never been with a man before either." He rests his fingers on the waistband of Armie's jeans. 

"I know, I just…"

"You're older than me and you want to take care of me and make it good, and that's awesome but we have to make it good  _ together  _ and that might take time." 

Armie gives him a lopsided smile. "Immortal." 

Timmy grins. "Can I take your pants off?" 

"Yes." 

"Can I – take these off too?" Timmy slips the tip of his thumb under the waistband of Armie's boxers. 

Armie swallows. "Yes." 

"I have very much already seen your cock, Armie." 

"I know, I know, I know." Armie wriggles his hips as Timmy pushes his pants and boxers down to his knees. His tone says,  _ this is different though, and you know it.  _

Timmy leans forward and kisses Armie's stomach, feeling tender at the vulnerability he finds in Armie's eyes. Brushes his lips softly across the head of Armie's cock. Looks up to him. "I love you." 

"Fuck, Tim," Armie croaks. "Kneel up. Take your boxers off. Please."

Timmy does as he's told, watching Armie shift so he can push his pants and boxers off completely, kicking them over the side of the bed. Timmy shoves his boxers and the robe onto the floor too. 

"Oh, fuck." Armie reaches out for him, pulling Timmy down, holding him tight against him. 

Timmy sighs with it, with the luxury of Armie's skin everywhere on his. He runs his palm up Armie's side, finding new muscle everywhere. "Jesus, Armie, you've been working out so much?" 

Armie buries his lips at the base of Timmy's neck, nuzzling and licking. "Are you catching up with the changes?" he murmurs, amused. 

Timmy smiles, running his hand over Armie's bicep. "Yeah. Well, it's been ages since we were last in bed together." 

"True." Armie brushes their lips together. "Kiss me?" 

"You don't have to ask."

"Hmm." Armie nips his bottom lip. "Kiss me." 

It's slow, and deeper than before; Timmy gasps with it, hooking his leg over Armie's hip, pulling him close.

Armie pushes Timmy onto his back; kisses down his neck and chest, one large hand on his hipbone, and then his lips are at the head of Timmy's cock and his eyes are asking permission –

"Yes," gasps Timmy, and there's tight wet heat, then, and his heart threatening to explode because Armie's eyelashes fluttering against his flushed cheeks are  _ beautiful, so fucking beautiful.  _

Timmy digs his fingers into the tanned muscle of Armie's shoulders; strokes one hand through Armie's hair, rubs at his temple with the pad of his thumb. His hips buck as Armie licks at his shaft, as he sucks him. It feels experimental, a little tentative, but all the same Timmy can't look, because he knows he'd lose it in a second. 

_ It's Armie, Armie's here and he's sucking my cock  _ – he gasps and pushes urgently at Armie's shoulder. "Fuck – Armie, stop –" 

Reluctantly, Armie obeys, kissing Timmy's stomach. "You okay?" he asks softly. 

"I'm fine, I'm just…" Timmy trails off. He knows he's blushing. "Think the 'seconds' estimate might've been optimistic." 

Armie huffs a laugh. "You want to come in my mouth?" 

"Oh Jesus Christ. If you could not say things like that, that'd be great?" Timmy grins. "Lie here. Time for me to torture you a bit." 

Armie bends his head to lick Timmy's nipple as he moves over him, then rolls onto the bed beside him. 

"How and why do you know that that kills me." 

Armie shrugs. "I don't. Just testing. I'm glad it does though." 

Timmy puts his hand in the centre of Armie's stomach. "What about you?" he asks, brushing his lips across Armie's left nipple. He pokes out his tongue and licks; Armie gasps, fingers tangling in Timmy's curls. Timmy hums satisfaction, leaning over to do the same to the other nipple. "Keep your hand on my head?" He sees Armie's eyes widen slightly, sees the quick breath he takes. 

Kneeling between Armie's legs, he wraps his hand around the base of his cock; licks the head, then takes it between his lips. 

"Sorry if I'm shit at this. Never done it before."

Armie smiles at him, his fingers restless in Timmy's hair. "Neither have I. So." 

Timmy experiments; taking Armie as deep as he can (not that far, yet), licking the shaft, sucking the head, moving his hand and head together. Just the size, the way his mouth feels full, how easy it is for his jaw to get tired – fascinates him. He gets lost in it, thinking of the things that have felt best in the past, and trying to figure out how to recreate them. He's surprised when he feels Armie tugging gently at his hair, stroking his cheek with his thumb.

"Chalamet. Hey." 

Timmy hums a protest.  _ I've hardly begun. And I don't give a fuck if you come in my mouth.  _

The sharper tug of Armie's fingers in his hair makes him gasp. He pulls back, letting Armie's cock fall from his lips. He means to say _ I don't have to stop, _ but what he says instead is, "I like that."

Armie's eyes are full of fond amusement. "Sucking me?" 

Timmy flushes. "Yes. But also – my hair." He presses his head back into Armie's palm, asking for more. 

Armie licks his bottom lip. "Yeah?"

Timmy nods. "I – I don't have to stop, Armie. I could keep going. I know it's probably not great yet but...hey, I have to learn right?" he smiles softly and turns his head to kiss Armie's palm.  _ "Want  _ to, I mean. Not have to." 

"Tim." Armie's eyes are adoring. "I was stopping you because there was no way I could hang on much longer, let alone fucking look at you. Come here." He pulls Timmy down on top of him, stroking his back. He seems to hesitate for a moment before running his hand over the curve of Timmy's ass. Timmy feels Armie's cock twitch when he does. 

_ He likes my ass.  _ It's a relief, somehow. Given Armie's upbringing and some of the things he's said about sex in the past, Timmy's always kind of wondered how he'd feel about anal. 

Timmy kisses him, slowly. "Are you sure you don't want me to suck you? I don't mind if you come in my mouth. I – I want you to." 

"I was thinking...you first." Armie rubs his thumb across Timmy's lips, then kisses him. 

Timmy scrunches his nose, smiling. "Why?" 

Armie huffs amusement. "Just wanted to make you feel good."

"Believe me Armand, I will be very much right there. Probably almost immediately." 

Armie laughs, rolling his eyes. "Whatever you want." He cups Timmy's cheek with his hand. "Come here though. I need to kiss your nose."

"Why?" Timmy moves so he can.

"You did the scrunching it up thing. You have no idea how many times I've wanted to kiss your damn nose when you do the scrunching it up thing." 

"That's not a thing," Timmy murmurs, kissing the corner of Armie's mouth. 

"It is. It really is. You do it all the time."

_ You wanted to kiss my nose. _

"So – with the, uh, sucking you off thing –"

Armie grins. "Mm-hmm, yup, that thing, I think I vaguely –" 

Timmy bites him on the jaw. "Was anything bad? Or – good? Anything I should stop or...you know? Do more?" 

Armie groans. "Christ, Tim. I should've known you'd want to do it perfectly first time." 

"Stop teasing, asshole.  _ Shouldn't _ I want to make it good for you?"

Armie squeezes Timmy's buttock fondly. "Idiot. Good news – literally  _ anything  _ you do right now is guaranteed to work. Your hand and mouth together was amazing. Nothing was bad." 

Timmy hums satisfaction with this feedback and squirms away, taking Armie's hand and placing it firmly on his head. 

He licks Armie's cock to start with, teasing a little, but also making sure the base and shaft is wet. When he wraps his hand around it Armie gasps, and Timmy realises he's propped himself up on his elbow to watch.  _ He wants to come then.  _ A drumming tattoo of nervous excitement and arousal beats in his chest.  _ I wonder if it actually tastes kind of gross when he comes in my mouth.  _ He wants to find out. 

Timmy slips his lips over the head, trying to take as much as he can of the shaft in his mouth. His lips meet the edge of his hand and he moves them tentatively together, trying to make sure he keeps swirling his tongue too. He presses his head up against the gentle caress of Armie's palm, a plea for guidance and pressure.

Armie's fingers twist just a little in his hair, igniting a quick spark of aching arousal at the base of Timmy's spine. He moans and sucks harder. 

"Fuck." Armie hardly speaks it; it's just a plosive whisper, made emphatic by need. "Tim –" he sounds amused and a little embarrassed. "I'm gonna have to stop watching you do this –" 

Timmy pulls back, catching his gaze. Armie's flushed, bottom lip swollen and red where he's bitten it. "I don't want you to. I want you to watch me, and like it, and come in my mouth."

_ "This  _ fast?" Armie says, wryly. 

Timmy shrugs. "I don't fucking care. And pull my hair." 

"I am." 

"Harder, then." 

Armie strokes Timmy's cheek with his thumb. "You get pushy when you're turned on, Chalamet." His eyes are dark blue, full of curiosity and love. 

Timmy turns his head and bites gently at the thumb, just grazing it with his teeth. He doesn't make another answer; just dips his head back to Armie's cock. This time when he sucks, Armie's hand is tighter in his curls, pulling harder. Timmy moans with it, his hips rolling involuntarily. 

He looks up to check that Armie's watching him. He is, teeth biting into his bottom lip again, his chest rising and falling fast. Timmy's mouth feels even fuller, somehow, Armie's cock even harder.  _ He's close.  _ Timmy concentrates on keeping the rhythm of his hand and mouth, making sure that it's tight and hot and wet, his lips stretched, his jaw aching –

"Fuck, fuck, oh god, Tim, fuck that's so good,  _ fuck  _ –" Armie murmurs raggedly.

Timmy feels pulsing and his mouth starts to fill with warm liquid; he keeps his movements steady all the same, not wanting it to feel any less good for Armie. 

After a minute, Armie tugs gently on his hair. "Hey. Get up here, Chalamet." 

Carefully Timmy pulls back; kneels up. He collects all the liquid on his tongue and swallows.  _ Hmm. Weird. Kind of gross. Also kind of hot.  _ Arousal thrills down his spine.  _ I just swallowed Armie's come.  _

Armie smiles at him, looking tired and curious and fond. "How was  _ that?"  _

"Weird. Sexy." Timmy shrugs. "Was it okay?" 

Armie laughs. "Couldn't you tell?" he sits up and smoothes his hands down Timmy's arms. "Come here." 

Timmy goes, guided to lie down by Armie's caressing hands. Armie sits next to him and wraps his hand around Timmy's cock; bends his head to lick his nipple. 

_ "Oh, _ fuck." Timmy squirms a little. "I am not totally sure you should do that right now." 

Armie grins at him. "Chalamet, if I make you come like this I'll be very proud." 

"Argh." Timmy scrunches his face into a grimace of awkwardness, covering his eyes with his hands. "What the fuck have I got myself into." 

"Move your hands."

"Why?"

"I have to kiss your nose. You did the nose scrunching up thing again."

"Oh my god." 

"I told you you do it all the time." 

"Oh my  _ god.  _ You're such a tease. I'm on the edge here Armie." 

"The edge?" Armie kisses Timmy's nose, then his chin. "So if I tangled my fingers in your hair and –  _ pulled _ –"

Timmy moans, arching his back. "Please, please Armie –" 

Armie's mouth is around him, then, tight, glorious heat, and Timmy has to consciously prevent himself from thrusting up to meet those lips;  _ those beautiful fucking lips I've imagined around me a million times.  _ Armie sucks him, caressing his shaft with flat licks of his tongue, and then he finds the place just below the head that has Timmy moaning –

Those fingers twist almost cruelly in his hair again and Timmy's not even sure if he's forming words or just noises, now, because it's all too much,  _ far _ too much, and the fine thread of pain twists like fire down his spine into pleasure and he's coming, coming, lost –

Armie's holding him tight and nuzzling his neck. 

"Armie…" he murmurs. 

"Feel okay?" whispers Armie. 

"Oh, god." Timmy mumbles it, pressing his cheek to Armie's temple. 

"Is that a yes?" Armie's smiling as he says it, Timmy can hear. 

"'Couldn't you tell?'"

"Smartass." 

"I promise I can normally last longer than, like, thirty seconds." 

Armie laughs. "God. Yes. Same." He kisses Timmy's neck. "These damn freckles. I swear you are all kinds of torture, Chalamet." 

Timmy hums happily, then remembers and reaches for his phone. "What time is it?" 

Armie checks his watch. "Still only eight thirty."

"Okay." Timmy relaxes again. "Fuck, Armie, I can't believe you're here. Should I order breakfast?"

"Yes. Definitely. Yes."

Timmy grins. "Hungry?" 

Armie grumbles. "Fucking starving." 

"Why am I not surprised?" Timmy tries to sit up to reach the menu and the phone, but Armie growls and hugs him close.

"Uh, Hammer, I'm gonna have to –"

Armie hugs him closer still. 

"Okay. Well, no breakfast for you."

Armie growls again, then sits up. Leans over and snags the menu. "Limited range of movement, Chalamet. Always in touching distance please. We only have a few hours." 

Timmy sits up too, and pushes his face into Armie's neck. "Don't remind me." He licks his lips. "Armie, I... I'm kind of assuming we're going to need to keep this quiet a while longer." 

Armie sighs; kisses the top Timmy's head. "Ideally, I guess, yes." 

Timmy nods. "You realise I'm gonna be the young homewrecker. In the papers." 

"Yep. And I'll be the husband with a wandering eye. Oh, and old and creepy." 

Timmy pulls back and kisses him. "Tell me I didn't fuck up your life."

Armie smiles, softly. Puts his hand on Timmy's cheek. "Tim. This is gonna sound terrible, but Elizabeth and I should never have had Ford. We did it for the wrong reasons. He's a sweetheart, and I adore him, but we did it for the wrong reasons. And that was before you came along." He sighs; strokes Timmy's jawline. "Tell me I'm not gonna fuck up your career." 

Timmy laughs. "I can do my own career-fucking-up, thanks Hammer. Don't need any help from you." Seeing Armie's not-quite-comforted expression, he leans in and kisses him. "Armie...I've felt like shit for three years. Wanting you, missing you, loving you. Life's a balance. So the awards committees are homophobic pieces of shit. I'm already too 'fey' for them apparently." He giggles, and shrugs. "I love you."

"How long do you think we need to hide this?" asks Armie, pressing his lips to Timmy's temple. 

"God. I've no idea." Timmy shakes his head. "Long enough to minimise whatever asshole cheating rumors, I guess." He clears his throat, a little nervously. "Armie…" 

"Mm?" 

"Are you sure you  _ want  _ – I mean, your family, your  _ mom  _ – isn't this going to be really fucking hard for you?" 

Armie touches Timmy's chin, seeking his eyes. "She'll most likely cut contact." He says it lightly, as if he doesn't care. Timmy knows him too well to believe it. "I've had three years to consider all that. And there's nothing I can do about it. It's on her." He sighs. "It's not my fault, or your fault. I'm in love with you, and it's never gone away, in  _ years.  _ I'm sick of feeling lost without you, too. If it's hard, it's hard." He catches a breath. "Is that okay? Is it too much?" 

Timmy shakes his head, emphatically. "Exactly the right amount, please." 

Armie grins. "Can I kiss you?" 

"Yes please."

They smile as they kiss. 


End file.
